


Not a fair cop

by Petra



Category: Ashes to Ashes
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, F/M, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-27
Updated: 2010-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who does Hunt think she is, Eartha Kitt? Gene and Alex play Batman and Catwoman of a sort. No spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a fair cop

**Author's Note:**

> Bondage (held down) + vehicular + amnesia + public sex for Kink Bingo. Another [Chicago's Most Wanted Test](http://petra.dreamwidth.org/tag/chicago%27s+most+wanted+test) story. Alex/Gene + forgot for Porn Battle. With boots for [](http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**thatyourefuse**](http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/), who pre-read.

  
"Look here, Bolly," Hunt says, and pushes her up against a red-orange car.

She doesn't recognize it any more than she recognizes him, and she does recognize him, a little, in the back of her mind. Like she dreamed him once before he first tried to catch her. As for the car, maybe she noticed it when she was walking past it before, though part of her mind is surprised that there's no alarm going off. It seems like the sort of sports car someone would want to protect against thieves and people on the street who are inclined to abuse automobiles that belong to someone else.

On the other hand, Hunt's still standing over her, glaring at her in that way of his like he's trying to figure out what she's thinking by boring holes in her forehead with lasers made out of his eyes. It's not working any better this time than the last time he caught her, and she's sure he still can't prove a damned thing about the Yates Street job.

Or any of the others.

"You know my name, DCI Hunt, and if you don't use it, I'm not telling you a damn thing. I wouldn't give you the time of day." She pushes at his shoulders. He moves approximately as far as the police station would if she tried shoving it around.

"Fine, Drake. I'll use your name if you want me to."

She smiles tightly at him. "Thank you."

"Helps to establish an atmosphere of intimacy, isn't that what you call it?"

Alex frowns. Those don't seem like his terms, and as for an atmosphere of intimacy, it's two in the morning, he's pinning her to someone's car, and she's not sure what the hell he wants from her. Well, she's not sure what the hell he wants from her from the waist up. From the waist down, he's as easy to read as any man. "Sounds like a plan. What should I call you, then?"

He snorts, but he's still not backing up, and he has to know he's prodding her with that erection of his. "Any number of things. Start with 'Guv,' and we'll go on from there."

There is no way in the world he'll get that from her. "It's not a fair cop, though, is it, Gene?"

"Bloody hell, you talk too much even like this." Whatever that means, he's glowering at her. Maybe it's because she used his name, but it's not as though she doesn't know it.

"Do I? Not enough intimacy for you?" Alex isn't sure how to get past him, quite, without using the tried-and-true methods she doesn't usually resort to. On the other hand, Hunt has proven that he's a dogged bastard, that he's not going to let her go for no reason, and that she's going to have to find some way to take him out of the game if she wants to keep going. She promises herself that the next time she does this, she'll have someone take compromising pictures of the DCI getting up to no good with a lady of ill repute--whatever that does to her reputation, it can't be worse than what it'll do to his--and kisses him, pulling him down by his hair.

He groans against her mouth and grabs her by the wrists, moving her sideways until she could, really, roll off the car's bonnet if she gave it a try. If he let her go at just the right moment, if he didn't have his legs between hers, if he didn't lean onto her with most of his not inconsiderable bulk. Also if the kiss wasn't making her dizzy as hell. He's forceful--no surprise there--but he feels like he's been waiting for this.

Alex doesn't know why it feels the same way to her.

"God," Hunt says, grabbing at her breasts with a grip that goes from firm to caressing in no time flat.

Alex wishes she had a camera on her right now, just for the shots she'd be getting. Not of his hands--big man likes tits, no shock there--but for the look on his face, like it's Christmas morning. All his Christmases come at once, and why, why is that a familiar thing to think? "I'm keeping the dress on," she tells him firmly, because in the first place they are in public and whatever indecency charges they'll get if some law-abiding citizen happens by and calls yet more police, she doesn't need nudity on top of them, and in the second it would be a lot of trouble to get out of the corset-belt over the whole thing. She hadn't dressed for a quick shag on a car when she left the house, though she'll have to keep it in mind as a possibility in the future.

"Right. Right." He squeezes her right wrist, the one he's still holding onto, and reaches between her legs instead.

It's been a week since she wore knickers. The first time was an experiment, just to see what she could get away with, and it made her feel more in control of her life than she has in ages. After that, she made a general decision to leave them off unless she needed them for sanitary reasons.

"Oh, fuck, Bolly, you must have hit your head good and hard," Hunt says when he finds this out, his fingers rough and slippery on her labia. "Or--no, if you didn't, I never, ever want to hear about that. I've enough trouble thinking straight as it is."

Alex smacks him with her free hand. "Use my name, you bastard."

He closes his eyes for a long moment like a deep breath is the only thing holding him back from coming in his pants. "Right. Alex. Sorry."

"And I haven't hit my head at all." She's had headaches, lots of them, but she doesn't think that's anything new, and she doesn't have any particular lumps, so she's probably telling him the truth. Telling a copper the truth--well, it's not as though he can use the fact that she's healthy against her in a court, is it?

Hunt laughs and shakes his head, letting her up just long enough to undo his trousers and get himself out. "All ship-shape and Bristol fashion in the old noggin? I'd like to see you prove that."

Alex scowls at him, at his unpleasantly attractive smile, at the confidence he has even when he's partially naked. If she ever works out why he thinks he knows her, why he thinks he can say such things about her with impunity, she'll make him pay for every last second. "I'm fine. And you--" she wrinkles her nose and makes herself say it "--you are incredibly handsome, Gene. Will you please just fuck me?"

He groans and leans over her, moving his hand to her arse and her shoulder, still holding her down as if she wants to get away from him, as if she'd let him get away with any of this if she didn't want him. "You are a raging bitch," he tells her, and he makes the term sound like the sweetest praise she's ever heard. She's been called "beautiful" in much harsher tones by men who were much farther away from pushing into her any second now.

"And you are a completely bent, completely idiotic copper who will never, ever catch me," she doesn't say, because that might put him off his stroke. It's a good stroke, once he's got over his moment of whatever-that-was and gone for it. Brings her right up on her toes, trying to keep her feet on the ground. The car's shocks groan under their combined weight, not quite covering Alex's whimper. "Oh, God," she says, and if he takes it as praise, so much the better.

"Sorry, love, it's just me," Hunt says against her ear, actually sounding mildly apologetic for once. "If I let your wrist go, you're not going to try any gymnastics, back-flip off this motor and disappear into the night sort of thing, are you?"

Alex kisses him again by way of answer. She'd love to, but who does he think she is, Eartha Kitt? Nobody could back flip from this position without breaking herself in half, and it's not as though she's got the muscles for it in the first place. "I think you've got me right where you want me."

"Finally." Hunt reaches between her legs again and rubs her where she needs it, which is when she has a fleeting thought about some kind of protection--too late, even if she was going to break this off long enough to bother about it, and it shouldn't, shouldn't be an issue anyway--and then she doesn't give a damn, not when he's rocking into her and stroking her like that. His fingers are large and slightly clumsy, like the rest of him, but it's still some of the best she's had in--

She can't think how long it's been since she's done this. Not this-this, not on a car and in public, but let anyone touch her who might theoretically talk to her ever again. There have been a couple of men since--since something, the kind she wanted to screw over as much as she wanted to screw them.

She wants to screw Hunt over, too, but the more he moves, the more he squeezes her and rubs her like he knows every sound she makes and wants the full gamut, the easier it is to forget that she wants to do more than screw him, as often and in as many positions as they can manage. Maybe next time they'll find a bed.

A bed, she reminds herself, near somewhere where she can take incriminating photos, damn him.

"Fuck, fuck--" Alex buries her face in his shoulder. "Faster--what if someone comes by--"

"I don't have backup coming, Bolls, so don't get your--never mind," he says, half breathless, half laughing at her. "Sorry, forgot you haven't got your knickers with you."

Alex groans and arches under him at a particularly inventive touch, wrapping one leg round his waist to pull him deeper. "That doesn't--nn--doesn't mean you can mock me for it, you arse."

"No? God, you're still pernickety." Hunt kisses her again before she can say, "Still?" and try to work out when they've had any conversation anywhere near this long where he could've noticed anything much about her personality.

There's something at the back of her mind.

There's something in the small of her back, too, but that's the edge of the car's bonnet, digging in a bit when she shifts and moves to meet him. "Isn't--isn't that a good thing? You're a copper. You should like people who pay attention to detail."

Hunt shakes his head and buries his face in her chest for a long moment, his back arched, his strokes going ragged. "Jesus, Alex," he says.

She laughs at him even as he starts rubbing her in earnest. "Now I--I see what you really are--Hunt--" She puts the same deliberate emphasis on his name that half of her underlings do, making it rhyming cant. "Such a gentleman, such--oh--such a bastard--can't even wait for the lady you're with--"

"If I was with a lady, we'd be inside." He kisses her fiercely and grabs her wrist again, holding her there as though this is the moment she'd choose to wriggle away, breaths from orgasm. "We'd be in a nice, clean bed, her and me, and she'd be stark naked so I could bloody well touch her. She wouldn't dig the heels of her ridiculous bloody boots into my back, and she would bloody well say my name when she got off."

"We'll have to, to try it again," Alex says. That's the plan, she tells herself. She's not making him any promises she doesn't want to keep.

Just because she wants to keep them for all the wrong reasons--his eyes, the crooked smile he gives her, the way he touches her--that's not going to matter in the long run.

"Will we?" Hunt squeezes her hand like he's about to put cuffs on her, and it makes her come as surely as his fingers against her clit, as surely as the thrust he gives her then, pushing her further up the car's bonnet. "Damn you, Bolly."

Alex twists her hand free as soon as she knows she wants to and smacks him again. He pulls back, pulls out, stands up straight. "Use my damn name," she tells him, though she can't say it as fiercely as she'd like until she gets her breath back all the way.

"Alex Drake, I'm arresting--"

"You are not!" That comes out as a shout. Alex scoots back and discovers that rolling over a car's bonnet to get away from a large, angry police officer who's dangling out of his trousers is easier than she would've previously assumed, especially when instead of reaching for her, he reaches for his drooping clothes. "Good night, Gene," she says, from the other side of the car, calling over her shoulder.

She's not terribly good at running in her boots, yet, but she's as good at it as she needs to be to get well away from him before he's got himself all put together.

She plans their next assignation in the shower, picking out just the right hotel, thinking about his fondness for her tits and choosing the outfit she'll wear to keep his mind off his duties. When she goes so far as to think about having dinner with him beforehand, she makes herself stop. This isn't a romance, after all, and if she starts to treat it like one, things will get more complicated than they need to be. All she wants are pictures of him in the raw, misbehaving himself as gloriously as he just did, and those should be easy enough to acquire.


End file.
